


warmth

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Series: unspoken [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Cuddling, Fluff, Hugs, IgNoct, M/M, Mild Angst, One Shot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 18:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16540202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: It gets cold in that tent.(more ignoct cuddles and a three am conversation)





	warmth

The nights are growing longer, and after the sun sets, the heat leaches from the desert with surprising swiftness. The stone dome of the haven holds on to the warmth of the day for a little longer, but by the early hours the cold begins to seep up through the floor of the tent and into the bones. Noctis is used to stirring in the night to find the distance between himself and his companions has shrunk considerably, and it’s not like they had much personal space to begin with. In the beginning, there were some awkward moments, muttered apologies followed by hasty retreats, even a stifled noise of terror from Prompto the first time he awoke to realize he had draped himself all the way across Ignis, who he was apparently still a little intimidated by (Ignis had remained asleep for the entire incident, even while Noctis was practically vibrating with muffled laughter). But as they spend more time on the road, sharing the same space, the same food, the same battles and the same grime clinging to each of them, it doesn’t seem worth it to be precious about these things, and the simple desire for heat and comfort wins out.

So he’s not surprised to wake in the early hours and find an arm draped over him and the warmth of someone pressed against his back. His brain isn’t working particularly quickly at this hour, but he can see that Prompto’s face is in front of his own, and feel that the person behind him is of a slimmer build than Gladio. And, okay, maybe he is just a little surprised that Ignis is clinging to him like this.

… Not that it’s bad. It’s pretty comfortable, really. The chill air is nipping at his face and arms, and the blanket isn’t quite enough on its own to keep out the cold. Ignis is probably the only thing keeping him from shivering. He shifts a little where the ground has started to feel too hard underneath him, and despite his efforts otherwise, wakes Ignis up.

“Noct?” He hears the sleepy murmur, and then the arm starts to withdraw. He puts his hand over Ignis’ and pulls it back to rest on his chest.

“Stay,” he says, and then worrying that might sound too much like an order, whispers, “I mean… as long as you’re comfortable. You don’t have to move. I’m fine.”

“If you insist.” Ignis yawns, and Noctis feels his breath on the back of his neck. He shifts to get comfortable, then the arm around Noctis tightens and pulls him closer. Fingers entwine with his own, and he wonders how long it’s been since they hugged. Since they held hands. They’d done it all the time as children, Ignis taking his hand as they crossed the street, until Noctis grew old enough to insist he didn’t need any help, didn’t need Ignis to come with him at all. Ignis had relented on the handholding, but insisted on accompanying him for several more years. Thinking back, Noctis isn’t sure whether it’s because he actually wanted to, or was ordered to.

They’d stopped hugging when Noctis was in junior high, and decided that listening to angry music and throwing the occasional cushion was a more appropriate emotional outlet for his fears and problems. The future was weighing on him heavily, and he felt that he had to face it with a grave seriousness, one that didn’t allow frivolous hugs with his advisor. At the same time, he’d wanted to run from it all, and that had been around when he’d met Prompto. Afternoons spent at the arcade had turned into evenings in which Ignis greeted him at the door with a frustrated tone and a stack of unread reports, which did little to inspire affection in Noctis. But he’d always been there, cooking and tidying and doing a thousand little things that Noctis had probably never noticed and wouldn’t even be able to guess.

_ Stupid, _ he thought, squeezing the current Ignis’ hand. It could have been like this the whole time, if he hadn’t been so proud and irritable and stubborn. Was his apartment, his school, the arcade even there anymore? Even if it was, he wasn’t going back any time soon. All he had in the world was here right now.

“Hey, Specs?”

“Mn?”

“Do you miss it? Insomnia, I mean…”

“Of course I do.”

He takes his hand back and begins toying with Noctis’ hair, in a way that’s oddly relaxing.

“Yeah, me too.”

With the lack of restraint that comes with being half-awake at three in the morning, Noctis keeps talking.

“I keep thinking about it, you know. Like, the pizza place on the corner. That old building with the statue out the front. Hell, the stray cat that lived behind my apartment building. If any of it will be there when we go back.”

He gives a hopeless laugh.

“I’m going to be  _ king. _ There’s so many more important things I’ve gotta worry about. But…”

Ignis continues stroking his hair. “Your concern for the small things is admirable, and an excellent trait to have, as long as you don’t let these things overwhelm you.” He pauses. “And I hope the stray is alright too. I seem to recall you talking me into serving gourmet sashimi in an alleyway for her benefit. It would be a shame if she were gone.”

Noctis laughs for real this time, though quietly.

“What can I say. I appreciate those who appreciate my cooking.”

“ _ I _ appreciate it.”

“That’s not what the vegetables stranded at high tide on the side of your plate say.”

“No,” Noctis rolls over to face him, and this time there’s a fierceness in his whisper. “I appreciate it, Specs. Really.”

Ignis blinks slowly, “Well, I…”

“Not to get all sappy on you, but I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Starve. In the wilderness. Hopelessly lost. Clothing unlaundered.”

Noctis punches him on the arm, and Ignis catches his hand to hold it again. They stay like that for an uncertain amount of time, with only the quiet sound of their breathing and the occasional snore from the other two to break the silence. Then Ignis speaks up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

Noctis looks up in surprise, surely he must be teasing, but the gentle smile on his face holds nothing but sincerity.

“If I were to look back, I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about everything that’s gone. I feel that I could get lost in it. Our journey- the fighting, the driving, the covenants, yes, even the chores- they keep me tied to the present. Someone I love is with me, and I have to keep them safe. I  _ can _ keep them safe. That’s enough for me.”

Noctis squirms a little, embarrassed by how apparently easy it is for Ignis to say the word  _ love. _ Or maybe it isn’t, but even if it’s hard for Ignis to say, it’s utterly impossible for him. Not now, during an idle conversation in a tent at some godsforsaken hour of the morning, with Prompto drooling on the bedding next to him and Gladio letting out a snort like a sleeping behemoth. Not when either of them could wake up at any moment and hear- what? That he adores Ignis?  _ No shit. _ They probably know, and maybe it doesn’t make any sense, but he’s stubborn like that.

He can move closer, though. He can bury his face in Ignis’ shoulder and settle there, held tight again. He can pretend that it’s because of the cold, that they just woke up like this, that all of these little touches and gestures are no big deal, that they don’t mean anything. That they don’t mean  _ everything. _

The night is calm, and the only sound in the tent is that of four people, breathing the cold air in deeply, sharing each other’s warmth.

_ Ah, _ he thinks as he closes his eyes and snuggles in for the night,  _ who cares anyway? _


End file.
